


Thieves

by lolcat202



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 12:57:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4180665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolcat202/pseuds/lolcat202
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off a tumblr prompt: Outlaw Bandit: Robin sneaks into Regina’s hideaway to ambush her (in retaliation for something she’s done to him probably), but waits too long and she starts undressing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She’d pilfered his bow. Of all things, the wretched woman had pilfered his bow. He and the men had been having a knees-up in the tavern, celebrating a most successful haul. He’d been lulled into a false sense of security by the company, and the size of the purse they’d snatched, and most definitely the strength of the ale. He’d seen a woman lurking in the shadows, face hidden by her hair and curves on ample display in a barmaid’s dress, but he had thought nothing of it. Until, of course, it was time to leave and his bloody bow was gone.

Regina. She was going to be the death of him, if he didn’t kill her first.

Of course, he supposed, he probably deserved it. She had set her own traps for that carriage, traps that he and his men had meticulously undone. Robin hated to take food from her mouth, but Sherwood Forest was an unforgiving place, and he and his men had to take care of the people first and themselves second. Regina Mills was but a distant third on his list.

That is, until she stole his bow. Her audacity immediately moved her up to the top of Robin’s list of priorities. 

He stole quietly through the forest in the dead of night, side-stepping her booby traps with ease. He had no interest in dismantling her rough security system; he merely wanted to avoid warning her that he was coming. He crept into the hollow log that she called home. A quick survey told him she wasn’t home; a more thorough search showed that wherever she was, she still had his bow. He settled in a dark corner to wait.

She crept in so silently that he didn’t hear her until she was almost on top of him. She was covered head to toe in a dark cloak, and damn her, she was wearing his bow slung across her back. She pulled the bow off and dropped it carelessly on the floor; watching the bow he’d so delicately carved clatter on the stones underfoot almost sent him to his feet. He kept his silence, though; eventually, she’d nod off and he’d be gone with his bow and, no doubt, with something of value to her.

She didn’t have much, that he’d discovered from his earlier search. What little she had, though, she kept in good condition. She was cautious in all things and far more capable than most men he’d met. Truthfully, he admired her for having the gall to steal his bow, and he relished the opportunity to return the favor. Parting the rich from their wealth was Robin’s favorite pastime; goading Regina Mills was a close second.

He expected her to drop her cloak and fall into her pallet in the corner; the hour was late and clearly she’d been busy this evening. He didn’t expect her to begin removing her shirt right in front of him. Suddenly, he regretted coming here tonight. He had no issue with provoking Regina’s temper, but he was not the kind of cad that would take advantage of a woman, no matter how often she irritated him. He opened his mouth to say something, to stop her from revealing too much, but the shirt was over her head before he could speak. Her back was to him, and she had an angry red gash from her shoulder to her mid-back.

“That looks quite serious,” he said softly. She jumped and whirled around, clutching her shirt to her chest.

“You,” she breathed. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He looked to his bow, and looked back up to her, one eyebrow cocked in disbelief. “You have to ask? Now turn around.”

She continued to stare at him, mouth agape. One hand was twitching nervously, and he knew that it was itching to find a weapon to sink into his belly. He wouldn’t give her the opportunity, though. He reached out and grabbed her shoulders (gently, minding the wound), and turned her away from him. He studied the injury in the candlelight. “Well, it’s not deep, but it still needs attention.” He pulled a flask from his vest and poured a liberal amount of whiskey over the wound. Her shoulders stiffened and he heard her sharp intake of breath, but she gave no other indication that she felt any discomfort. “Have you any salve to put on this?” She hesitated, then jerked her chin toward a shelf to his left. He poked through the jars until he found the one he wanted, a foul-smelling brew popular throughout the forest for heading off infection. He scooped some into his fingers and began gently rubbing it onto the abrasion. He couldn’t help but notice the soft perfection of her skin, the curve of her waist, and the sharp angle of her jaw as she turned to look at him over her shoulder. He gently brushed her braid out of the way. “Hold still please,” he muttered. He was mortified to realize that his breathing had quickened, keeping in time with his rapidly escalating heartbeat. Of all the things he’d expected to find tonight, a half-naked Regina was not one of them.

She was breathing heavily too, he noticed with some satisfaction, and clutching her shirt over her breasts for dear life. He leaned closer, his breath ghosting over her bare skin, and her shoulders stiffened. “It will leave a mark, I’m afraid, but I believe you’ll live.” She nodded, but she made no move to pull away from him. He stroked a hand along her uninjured shoulder, marveling at the sinew and muscle under his hand. He felt the heat of her coursing through his veins, and he dropped his hand. “Now, milady, I believe I’ll take what I came for.” He reached down and scooped up his bow, his eyes never leaving hers. He bowed with a smug smile and backed slowly out of her home. She made no move to stop him, nor did she look away. He took the memory of the fire and passion in her eyes with him to his camp. 

Well, that and the pendant he’d lifted from the shelf next to her medicinal jars. Turnabout was fair play, after all, and he found he was eager for her to come after it.

***  
Since the first time he’d picked a pocket that she’d set her sights on in Nottinghamshire, Regina Mills had envisioned her first meeting with Robin Hood. Most of her fantasies involved him bleeding at her feet, begging her pardon. None had involved her being naked from the waist up. She stood rooted to the spot in her cozy den, still clutching her shirt against her chest, dumbstruck that he’d managed to sneak in and lie in wait without her noticing.

She was getting careless.

Regina blamed her temper. She’d bided her time for months, hoping to catch the Merry Men off-guard and beat them to the punch for once. This last job had been perfect; she’d planned it to the second, only to arrive at the side of the road and find her traps completely dismantled. No need to guess who had done it; the Merry Men and that idiot Robin of Locksley were the only ones who’d dare interefere with her plans. Common sense told her to let it go and plan for the next heist; pride sent her to the tavern they favored to find a way to bring him low for once.

And it had been so easy – he and his men were three sheets to the wind when she’d arrived, and all it had taken was a coy smile and a plunging bodice to distract the Merry Men while she’d plucked Robin’s bow from the back of his chair. After all, they were hardly staring at her hands.

Truthfully, she’d had no intention of keeping it. The bow was too large to serve her purposes, and while she’d relished finally pulling one over on Robin of Locksley, she didn’t intend to make an enemy out of the man. She just wanted to see him break a sweat for once. She’d lifted the bow and snuck out of the tavern, throwing a dark cloak over her shoulders. That’s when she’d seen him; a gentleman dressed in all the finery of the local gentry, stumbling about unsteadily on two feet and clearly the worse for wear from an evening at the tavern. An easy mark, she’d thought, right up until the moment when his carriage had pulled up, escorted by two of the queen’s black knights.

No matter, she had thought. She’d gotten the best of a black knight or two in her day; surely these two would not prove to be a challenge.

Oh, she had been wrong on that score, and she had the stinging gash on her shoulder to prove it. Apparently archery skills were not limited to the outlaws in Sherwood Forest. She’d trudged back to the home she’d hidden deep in the forest, wincing with every step at the pain in her shoulder. And when she pulled her shirt over her head, there was Robin of Locksley stepping out of the darkness, tending to her wounds and stoking up a fire in her belly – a fire that had nothing to do with her wanting to get the upper hand against the famed outlaw.

Damn him, she thought, as she gingerly pulled a clean chemise over her head. She curled into her bed and closed her eyes, fighting in vain to push the feel of his fingertips on her skin from her mind.

She awoke stiff and sore the next morning, and a cursory attempt to lift her arm above her shoulder left her moaning in pain. She could feel the edges of the scab that had formed pulling in protest at her movement, and she dropped her arm with a muttered curse. Another coating of salve would do wonders, she thought, and pushed herself off her bed to sort through the jars on the shelf.

Wait. Where was her mother’s pendant? It should have been there on the shelf. She pushed her medicinals aside carelessly, jars falling to the ground as she scrabbled along the smooth wood for the delicately carved onyx.

Robin, she thought, and her lips curled over bared teeth. Oh, if he thought stealing his bow was bad, it was nothing compared to the vengeance she’d exact for stealing the one thing her mother had given her. When she was done with him, he’d be begging for mercy.

Which, frankly, was a far more appealing thought than it should be.

***

Patience had never been a virtue Regina had embraced. She favored charging into action, consequences be damned as long as she got her way. Her injured shoulder, however, forced her to bide her time. A good six days passed before she felt well enough to set out for the Merry Men’s camp, and she hoped that those six days were enough to lull Robin into a false sense of security that she wouldn’t come after him. She didn’t have a fully formed plan, not yet, but she was willing to wing it. After all, she hadn’t intended to steal his bow a week prior, but Regina excelled at taking advantage of opportunity. And Robin, for as much as he was a legend in the forest, was just a man, and men were careless. Overly confident. And no match for Regina when she had her mind set on a goal.

The camp was nearly deserted, with just a few lights marking the Merry Men’s boundaries. Regina crept to the post where a few horses were kept without the slightest concern that she’d be discovered. The men must be out on a job, leaving two of their followers (boys, really – they were barely her height) standing guard. Regina patted the flank of a stallion, apologized in advance, and unwound the reins from the post. She tucked a stone into her slingshot and let it fly, and the horse took off with a loud cry and thundering hoofbeats. The boys standing guard charged through the forest after the beast, and Regina crept through the camp to Robin’s tent.

Yes, she knew which tent belonged to Robin. Purely for strategic purposes, she told herself. After all, she wasn’t in the habit of spying on the Merry Men’s camp. (She was.)

She stole inside and lit a candle, holding up the light to survey the interior. It was even more basic than her carved-out tree; a pallet in the corner, a stack of clothing in the chest, and a few small knick-knacks on what she guessed served as his table for planning strategies. She took in the sketch of the trails in the forest that laid on the table, X-es and circles marking the spots where the Merry Men would take their posts for tonight’s robbery. She pushed gently through his wares, searching for her mother’s pendant.

Nothing.

She cursed softly. He wouldn’t have given it to another of the Merry Men, that much she knew. He’d take it as a point of pride to hold it until she came for it herself. Very well, she’d have to wait him out. He’d snuck up on her in her own home; she was more than willing to return the favor.

Shouts of laughter outside the tent reminded Regina where she was, and what she was doing, and she quickly extinguished the candle. Apparently the boys had fetched the horse without any trouble, and they were loudly congratulating each other on their tracking skills. Regina rolled her eyes. Oh, to be that young again, so naïve and confident. They congratulated each other on their skills, and she listened with a smirk as they concocted a brave tale of their heroics to report to Robin. She felt a twinge of guilt at how shame-faced they’d be come morning, when Robin would surely confront them about letting another bandit invade his tent, but she quashed it as quickly as it came. His men were not her concern. Her mother’s pendant was. She tucked herself underneath the table in the corner of his tent, hoping that he’d be too confident in his own abilities after the night’s work – and too willing to think that she wouldn’t seek retaliation after a week had passed – that he wouldn’t notice her curled against the legs of the table.

She wasn’t wrong. He stumbled into the tent in the wee hours of the morning, reeking of ale and humming a cheerful melody under his breath. He didn’t even bother to check his surroundings – how nice it must be to not constantly feel the Queen’s breath on his neck – before he pulled off his shirt and trousers. Regina’s cheeks flushed at the sight of his bare backside, and she fought the urge to shut her eyes and bury her head into her cloak. After all, Robin certainly had not shied away from her naked skin, so why should she? He tossed his leather trousers aside, and they landed mere inches from where she sat. She pulled her knees even further underneath her, not daring to breathe. A flicker of light from outside the the tent highlighted his face and bare chest, and that’s when Regina saw it – her mother’s pendant, strung on a piece of leather around his neck.

Oh, she was going to kill him. And she was going to enjoy every second of it. 

***

It didn’t take long for Robin’s even breathing to fill the tent. Regina held her own breath, counting slowly to a hundred before she uncurled her legs and crept silently to his bedside. He slept on his back, an arm covering his eyes (and a tartan blanket covering his…other parts). She withdrew a blade from her belt and reached for the strap of leather securing her mother’s pendant. One quick stroke, and she’d be on her way. She curled a finger under the leather strap, holding her breath as she pulled it away from his chest.

He slapped a hand down over hers, and one eye opened lazily. “Did you really think I didn’t know you were there?” he whispered. She tried to yank her arm away, but his fingers curled over hers and refused to budge, holding her hand over his beating heart. “You’re good, Regina, but I’m better.”

“I doubt that,” she snapped. “Let go of me.”

“Why?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow. “So you can carve me up in an attempt to retrieve what’s yours? That’s hardly likely, my girl.”

“I’m not your girl,” she hissed, digging her nails into his chest and enjoying the sharp intake of breath as she cut through his flesh, “and this belongs to me.”

He curled his fingers tighter around hers and pulled her hand from his skin. “You have a terrible way of showing appreciation for my assistance,” he said mildly. “I trust you’ve healed fully, then?”

A flick of the wrist he wasn’t holding captive was enough to cut her pendant loose, and she caught it as it fell to the ground.

“I don’t need your assistance,” she whispered, ignoring the concern reflecting in his blue eyes. (God, they were beautiful.) “I can take care of myself.”

Robin glanced at the blade in her hand. “Apparently you can.” His fingers loosened over her own, and he shifted to sit up on his pallet. The tartan covering him shifted as well, and Regina almost fell over herself in an attempt to put as much space between herself and his naked body as she could. She backed away from him, one hand still brandishing her knife, the other clutching her mother’s pendant.

“But know this,” he said with a smile, “If you try to get the best of me again, I will have to retaliate. My honor depends on it.” He gave her a lazy once-over, which made her doubt that his honor had anything to do with their brief interaction.

“I don’t want your retaliation,” she said, leaning down to scoop her bulging knapsack off the floor. “I want you to leave me alone.”

She backed slowly out of the tent, trying to ignore the way his blue eyes followed her every movement. As the tent flap fell shut behind her, she heard him say softly, “I don’t believe you want that at all.”

She crept out of the camp slowly, trying to soothe the fire that had erupted in her chest at his parting shot. And yet, she couldn’t toss aside the soft caress in his words. And maybe she didn’t want him to forget about her; if she had, she might not have crept from the camp with a knapsack loaded with every article of clothing he owned.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t the first time a beautiful woman had left Robin without a stitch of clothing, but it was definitely the first time a beautiful woman had left him in that state so completely unsatisfied. He stood in the middle of his tent, naked as the day he was born, his brow furrowed in frustration.

Every single article of his clothing. Apparently, she was a bit more upset about the theft of her jewelry than he’d anticipated.

 _Or perhaps she likes to think of you naked_ , he thought. The idea had merit. He worried his lower lip with his teeth. Obviously, this theft couldn’t go without a response, but he couldn’t very well storm into her home bare-assed. No matter how appealing the thought of that might be.

Robin ducked his head outside of his tent and shouted for Will Scarlet. Will’s head popped out of his own tent, his eyes half-shut and his hair mussed with sleep. Will shook himself awake as he crossed the clearing and lifted Robin’s tent flap. On seeing Robin standing in front of him in the altogether, Will shut his eyes and muttered that he hoped he was still asleep. And that this was a particularly lousy dream.

Robin ignored Will’s muttering. “I need some trousers, and a shirt. And then I need your help. We have a job to do.” Will’s expression brightened at the mention of a job; nothing made him happier than money in his pocket. “Not that kind of job,” Robin said. “I need you to help me fetch back what’s mine.”

“By that I assume you mean your dignity?” Will responded dryly. “I think it’s too late for that, mate.” He turned his back on Robin, studying the tent flap intently. “Might I ask why you need my pants?” he asked. “As I recall, you have plenty of your own.”

“Had,” Robin bit out. “It seems we had a late night visitor who took the liberty of freeing me from my wardrobe.”

“Did we now?” Will asked over his shoulder, still avoiding Robin’s gaze. “I suppose another poor, unfortunate fellow who found himself in dire straits in our fair forest?”

Robin wasn’t amused at Will’s cavalier tone. “Unfortunate, yes, but she has no idea the dire straits she’ll be in when I get through with her.” He pulled the blanket from his pallet and wound it around his waist.

Against his better judgment, Will turned back to Robin. “Don’t you think this is a bit ridiculous? There are people out here with actual problems. People who benefit from our work, and here you are carrying on about some imaginary feud with a _girl_?”

“Woman,” Robin corrected, “and I can hardly do much for the citizens of Sherwood Forest if I’m stark naked, now can I?” Will conceded the point and agreed to fetch a fresh change of clothing for Robin. As he ducked out of Robin’s tent, he said over his shoulder, “You’re playing a dangerous game, Robin. And what would your Zelena say?”

Robin winced at the sound of her name. He’d barely spared a thought for Zelena in the last week, and it rankled him that she was so easily forgotten. _Not forgotten_ , he assured himself. His fixation on Regina was temporary. Once they played out their little game, he’d forget about her and come back to his senses.

Wouldn’t he?

He needed to put some pants on. Hard to think straight when he was without a stitch of clothing. (Not the first time he’d come to that particular conclusion.)

***

He didn’t even bother trying to be subtle this time. After all, she had to know he was coming for her – or for his wardrobe at least. He, John and Will easily side-stepped her traps, but they made no effort to silence their steps in the woods surrounding her home. As they drew near to the log she called home, faint movement in the trees caught his eye. He narrowed his gaze. Sure enough, every scrap of clothing he’d owned was hung up on ropes strung just beyond her log. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who’d given up on subtlety.

Will heaved a sigh of relief.  “Well, at least she’s made it easy for us,” he said. He reached up for a shirt fluttering like a semaphore in the spring breeze and yanked it off the line. “Can I have me own clothes back now?” he called to Robin.

“All in good time,” Robin muttered, reaching up to snatch a pair of trousers from the line. He gestured at John, and his friend stepped up to retrieve a forest-green shirt. Once they’d pulled the bulk of his wardrobe from the ropes, Robin turned and strolled to the opening of Regina’s rustic home. He’d gotten maybe three feet inside when a quiet voice stopped him in his tracks.

“No, I don’t think so,” Regina said softly. “You got what you came for. Now take it and leave me be.”

She was sitting on a stool just inside the main room, her easy expression betrayed by the arrow nocked and raised to his heart. Robin smiled at the picture she presented him; a beautiful woman, a fierce warrior, an incomparable foe.

“You stole my clothes,” he said.

“And now you have them back,” she answered, her face a mask of indifference.

“Aye, that I do. But you couldn’t have taken them without knowing I’d seek my vengeance.”

She dropped the bow a hair and huffed. “Vengeance for your laundry? It’s a miracle you’ve managed to accomplish anything in this forest if that’s how shallow your priorities are.”

“My priorities are just fine, milady,” he said casually. “I take care of what’s mine.”

She raised the bow at that. “So do I,” she spat, “and you won’t be taking anything else that belongs to me.”

He shot a pointed look at the bow. “No,” he said, “it seems I won’t.” He backed slowly out of the entryway. “Not today, anyway,” he continued softly.

***

Robin flung the contents of his satchel into his chest, frustrated that Regina had been so eager to call an end to their game. It was childish and immature, he knew, this tit-for-tat, but it was also the most fun he’d had in years. He would put it out of his mind, though, in deference to her wishes (and in deference to his own desire to keep her arrows out of his backside). He yanked the borrowed shirt over his head and tossed it through the tent flap to where Will was waiting.

“Now it smells like forest,” Will said in disgust, his footsteps echoing as he strode back to his own tent. Robin dug through the stack of his own clothing and pulled out a soft blue linen shirt. He tugged it over his head and slid an arm into the sleeve.

Well, he tried to, anyway. His hand met with resistance and he cursed softly. He pulled the shirt off and studied the arm holes, trying to determine the issue.

Of course.  She’d sewn his sleeves shut at the shoulder. He dug through his wardrobe, finding shirt after shirt that had received the same treatment. His pants had fared just as poorly – on some, the cuffs were sewn shut; others, the entire waistband. Clearly, Regina had been busy the night before.

He should be angry, he knew. Should be furious that she’d once again succeeded in getting the upper hand, but he wasn’t. Instead, he pictured her, bathed in candlelight and refusing to sleep, diligently ruining every article of clothing he had. She’d gone to a great deal of trouble just to annoy him. He smiled softly.

What kind of gentleman would he be if he didn’t return the favor?

***

Three days. Three days had passed since that wretched outlaw had backed out of her doorway, and she hadn’t heard a peep from him since. Finally, the stubborn, egotistical, smug outlaw bastard had gotten the message. She was relieved at the peace and quiet, truly. She kept telling herself that over and over again.

Oh, she would have given all of her internal organs to see him try to slide his arm into one of those shirts, though. Just the thought of his face as he worked through every single article of stitched-up clothing was enough to make break into a fit of completely uncharacteristic giggles.

Regina could do with a laugh, frankly. In the past three days, more and more of Queen Snow’s black knights had marched into Sherwood Forest, and along with them, a fresh crop of Wanted posters blanketed the trees, bearing (a completely unflattering) portrait of the bandit Regina Mills. Seems the queen’s dwarves had finally figured out her hiding spot. On the first day, she’d avoided the main roads; on the second, she’d very nearly stumbled into a small cluster of knights as she’d trudged through the forest to her home. She couldn’t very well go into town to pick up supplies, and her plans to pull off the job that would be enough to finally pay her fare on a ship out of the kingdom had to be scrapped. She ventured deeper and deeper into the forest, relying on her meager hunting skills to feed herself. A fat, greedy nobleman was easy to take down; a lithe, alert rabbit was not. She chewed the inside of her lip, her stomach rumbling. If she couldn’t bring down some game, she’d have no choice but to venture back into town. It was either that or starve, and Regina wouldn’t give the queen the satisfaction of dying. Not of starvation, anyway.

Dusk slowly turned to nightfall, and Regina sighed in frustration. Not a single kill to show for her day in the woods. She’d have to make do with the meager rations she’d squirreled away, and tomorrow she would head into the village. She crept through the forest, ears attuned for any snap of twigs or muffled conversation that would mean that she wasn’t alone. For once, luck was on her side; she crept into her den and tossed her bow and quiver on the table. She lit a candle and turned toward the hutch where she kept her food.

Wait a second. _Where the hell was her bed?_

An empty space in the hollowed-out room stared back at her, dust covering the floor that still bore the markings of four sturdy wooden legs. The bed with the delicate apple blossoms she’d carved so meticulously into the headboard, as well as the ticked mattress she’d stuffed with her own hands, were gone.

“ _Robin_ ,” she hissed. She slammed the candle down on the table, barely catching it before it tipped over onto the polished wood and set her entire home ablaze. She should have known he wouldn’t leave well enough alone. And here she was, starving and tired, with no meal on her table and no pillow on which to rest her weary head.

 _Oh, I don’t think so_ , she thought, and retrieved her bow and quiver. She may not be able to satisfy the rumbling in her stomach, but she sure as hell could satisfy the fury rising in her chest.

* * *

He found her, two hours later, sitting cross-legged on the bed in the middle of his tent and idly twirling a sharp blade between her fingers. He cocked an eyebrow at her as he pulled his cloak off his shoulders, casually draping it over his table. “Well, Regina,” he said, “it appears you’ve breached our defenses once again. And tell me, what have you destroyed this time?”

“Nothing yet,” she said, baring her teeth in an icy smile. “I was waiting for you.”

He shook his head as he pulled off his gloves. “That’s hardly a compliment to pay for a man who is doing his best to help you.” He tossed the gloves onto the table as well, his back to her but his head tilted to her, eager to hear her response.

“Help me?” she snapped. “By stealing what few possessions I have? Oh, yes. You’re very helpful. Pardon me if I don’t fall at your feet and grovel.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her as he reached into his satchel. He retrieved a folded-up piece of parchment and unfolded it slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “I am helping you,” he said plainly. “It appears I’m not your only fan.” He held out a Wanted poster.

She dropped her eyes quickly to the poster – once again, that hideous likeness – and returned her gaze to his. She shrugged. “The price you pay for being an outlaw. I’d wager there are far more posters in this forest with _your_ picture on them.”

He  nodded. “That may be,” he said, “but the posters calling for Robin Hood’s capture are hung by the sheriff. These were hung by the queen’s black knights. And, Regina, I don’t think they’re looking to take you alive.”

“I can take care of myself,” she said steadily. He crossed the tent in a few steps and dropped himself on the bed next to her. She pulled her legs underneath her, trying desperately to keep as much space as possible between herself and Robin.

“I have no doubt you can,” he said. “My point is, you don’t have to.”

She scoffed in response. “Who else is there?” she said bitterly.

“Me,” he answered. “It may have escaped your notice, but I have a full camp of men here. Men who would be more than happy to watch your back.”

She studied him thoughtfully. He was serious, she could tell, by the set of his jaw and the squaring of his shoulders. Seconds ticked by, and she opened her mouth to shoot back a caustic reply, but words failed her.

Finally, she broke the silence. “Why?”

He shook his head and laughed, and she didn’t miss the quick glance he shot at the chest that contained his wardrobe. “Because, for some mysterious and completely undeserving reason, I like you. The forest is much more interesting with you in it.”

She shrugged in response. “Not for much longer. I’m gone as soon as I get enough gold to cover my fare out of this kingdom. So if you really want to help me, you’ll stay out of my way.”

He leaned a little closer. “I do want to help you, Regina. But I don’t want to stay out of your way.”

A sharp yell outside the tent broke the moment. Will poked his head in the flap. “Oi, Robin. Are you going to eat, or what?” Will gave Regina a quick once-over, completely unfazed by her presence in Robin’s tent, and shook his head. “I’ll tell Tuck to fetch an extra plate, then,” he said and disappeared through the flap.

Robin turned back to her and grinned, his blue eyes crinkling. “Well, milady,” he asked, “will you be joining us for dinner?”

Regina followed Robin reluctantly out of the tent, every muscle fiber tensing for a quick escape. None of the men, though, batted so much as an eyelash at her presence. A few shot her appraising looks and, much like Will Scarlet, shook their heads in dismay before turning back to their plates of stew. Regina followed as close to Robin as she dared, using his body to hide her own presence as much as possible. She was so focused on her surroundings that she didn’t notice that he’d stopped to greet someone, and she stumbled right into him, nearly knocking herself over. He reached an arm to steady her, pulling her slightly forward into the light given off by the campfire.

“Regina, this is Little John, my oldest friend.” Regina looked up and saw what was without a doubt the largest man she’d ever met. _Little_ John…someone had a twisted sense of humor. She pursed her lips in an imitation of a smile and held out her hand.

“Nice to finally meet you,” he said, shaking her hand with a force that nearly knocked her off her feet once again. “I take it you’ve come for your furniture.”

“You know about that?” she asked, and he laughed in response.

“Who do you think hauled it through the woods? Certainly not this pitiful excuse for a man.” Robin rolled his eyes at John’s ribbing. He turned to Regina with a smile. It died quickly on his lips at the baffled look on her face.

“Why?” she asked John. “Surely you have better things to do. Why go to all that trouble?”

“Why, indeed,” John replied, raising an eyebrow at Robin. “That’s a question I’ll leave for my friend here to answer. A pleasure, Regina.” He ambled over to the campfire with a mug of ale and a plate of stew.

She turned to Robin, mouth opening to ask him that very question, but he was too quick for her. “Are you hungry?” he said, cutting her off, and grasped her elbow to lead her over to the pot bubbling over the fire. The aroma of fresh herbs hit her, and she had to stop herself from diving in to the pot head-first. “Starving,” she admitted with a chuckle, and she allowed Robin to dish her up a plate of food and guide her to a seat alongside the fire.

She settled herself carefully onto the log, tucking her body into the shadows Robin cast in the firelight. Her eyes darted around the campfire, ever watchful for an enemy.

“Regina,” Robin said, “You don’t need to hide. There’s none that will harm you here.”

She started to protest, but his raised eyebrows stopped her. She scooped a mouthful of stew defiantly into her mouth and fought to keep a moan down as the rich, delicious gravy hit her tongue. She chewed slowly and swallowed, licking an errant speck of broth from her lips. Robin caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, and she could feel his gaze settle on her lips. Settle, and linger. A blush crept up her cheeks, and she ducked her chin to escape his scrutiny.

“So,” she asked, keeping her tone light, “why did you go to all that trouble?”

Robin smiled, shaking his head. “It was no trouble. John did all the work.”

She stared at him, waiting for a real answer to his question. He set his fork gently down on his plate. “It’s not that complicated, Regina,” he finally answered. “The queen is after you, and I worried for your safety. You certainly wouldn’t come with me willingly, so I had to find another way to get your attention.”

“By stealing my bed.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “By stealing your bed. And I’d say it was an excellent plan, since you’re here now. Wouldn’t you agree?”

She stabbed a morsel savagely with her fork, wishing instead that she were stabbing Robin in the thigh. “Not for long,” she said. “I told you, I don’t need your protection.”

“Regina, how long do you think it will take for someone in Nottingham to sell you out? It’s a poor village, and the reward is a ridiculous amount of gold. Loyalty only goes so far in Sherwood Forest.”

She gestured to the men seated around the campfire. “And them? How long will it take for them to sell me out?”

He surveyed the men around the camp. “I’d trust these men with my life. More importantly, I’d trust them with yours. You’re safe here.”

“I’m not safe anywhere,” she muttered. She scooped up another bite of stew, then laid the half-empty plate at her feet. “Thank you for the meal, but I can’t stay here. I’ll expect your friend John to return my bed tomorrow.” She rose to leave, but he caught her hand and pulled her back down to his level.

“Please, Regina. At least stay for the night. Your bed is already here.”

She laughed at that. “Is this how you woo a woman, Robin? Trick her into your tent?”

He looked mildly affronted at that. “Certainly not. If a woman is in my tent, it’s because she wants to be.”

Her blush grew deeper, remembering the sight of him naked and bathed in the moonlight from several days prior, and she kicked herself for opening up that line of conversation. “Well, how fortunate for you. But I have no intention of being another notch in your bedpost. Which, conveniently for you, is _my_ bedpost.”

He placed a hand on his chest. “On my honor, your virtue is safe with me. I’ll even sleep across the threshold of my tent to protect you from wayward scoundrels.” He winked at her, boldly flirtatious, and she rolled her eyes, muttering that he was the only scoundrel she feared.

“I mean it, Regina. Stay here for the night. Tomorrow we’ll deliver you safely to your own camp and, if you so desire, help you get passage out of the kingdom. Though I do wish you’d reconsider. The Merry Men would benefit from some fresh blood.”

“Thanks,” Regina said dryly, “but I work alone. Sharing profits isn’t my style.”

“Yes, sharing all that gold you haven’t gotten when we’ve beaten you to the punch must have been rather frustrating, I’m sure.” He smiled wryly at her and scooped another mouthful of stew. He chewed slowly and swallowed, heartened by the fact that she’d neither stabbed him for that dig nor bolted from the log. “I meant what I said. If you’re truly desperate to leave Sherwood, I’ll help, but only if you do as I ask and stay where I can protect you.”

Against her better judgment, Regina agreed, but only after she’d insisted once again that he sleep elsewhere. Anywhere, she didn’t care, as long as it wasn’t in a confined space with her. He swore a solemn oath that he would not come near her during the night. “But if you lay one hand on my wardrobe again,” he warned, I’ll turn you over to the black knights myself.”

***

Despite her misgivings, Regina fell into a deep sleep as soon as she wrapped herself in the tartan blanket Robin had thrown on the bed. She awoke enveloped with the scent of forest and campfire and Robin, and she fought to keep her eyes closed against reality for just a moment more. The tent was dark, quiet and peaceful, and she couldn’t figure out why she was awake. Until, that is, she became aware of someone staring at her. She shot up on the mattress, her hand scrabbling for a weapon.

A tall, beautiful and extremely angry  redhead was standing over the bed, sparks shooting from her blue eyes. “And just who the hell are you?” Zelena spat.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The queen closes in on Regina.

Robin was an early riser as a general rule, up with the sun and the first to stoke the campfire for breakfast. Today, though, he was in a deep, sound sleep, dreaming of chaos and fire in the forest and the Queen aiming a fireball at his head, when a boot kicked him awake.

“Robin,” John said. “Get up, man. I think you’re about to have some trouble.”

Robin scrubbed his face with his hands. “I’m up, I’m up,” he mumbled. “What’s the trouble?” He surveyed the campsite, expecting to see the Queen’s black knights surrounding them. Nothing but the Merry Men snoring softly away, and Father Tuck surreptitiously sneaking a slug of ale.

John jerked his head toward Robin’s tent. “You have a lady visitor. And she’s about to have an unexpected surprise in your tent there.”

 _Oh shit_ , Robin thought, and pushed himself to his feet. He knew he should have slept in front of the tent. Of the Queen’s black nights and Zelena’s temper, he wasn’t sure which would be more dangerous for Regina, but he had a sinking feeling he was about to find out. He strode across the campsite at a quick pace, reaching the flap of his tent just as Zelena screeched out, “Answer me, or I’ll find a way to make you regret it!” This would not end well.

He ducked into the tent and reached out to grasp Zelena’s elbow. “Zelena,” he said softly. “I see you’ve met my guest.”

Zelena’s face softened as she saw Robin, and he heaved a small sigh of relief. He wasn’t unaware of Zelena’s temper, or of her desire for him to only see her on her best behavior, and he supposed that he owed Regina an apology for his intended’s behavior. He shot a quick glance at Regina; she was curled up into a ball in her bed, eyes darting quickly between Robin and Zelena. She was tensed for flight again, he could see that, and he really couldn’t blame her. Even on her best day, Zelena was a handful and a half. Had been since the day they’d met, twelve years prior, when she was little more than a child. And now she was in his tent, staring down at a woman in his bed ( _her_ bed, not _his_ bed, he reminded himself).

“Zelena,” he said softly, taking her arm. “This is Regina, the bandit.”

“ _The_ bandit Regina?” Zelena asked. Robin nodded, and Zelena turned back to Regina. “What are you doing here?”

Regina crossed her arms over her chest and shot a pointed glare at Robin. “Ask him,” she said. Zelena turned back to stare at him. Two identical icy masks, waiting for his answer. It was a bit unsettling, really.

“Regina’s in a bit of trouble with the black knights, so we brought her here to keep her safe,” he said, gently stressing the _we_ in the sentence. Zelena’s expression softened; Regina merely rolled her eyes and tugged the blanket a little further up her chest.

“Oh,” Zelena said, trying to keep her voice neutral. “Well, this camp is a good place for that.” She turned to Robin and hissed in his ear, “But perhaps not this _tent_ , love.”

He nodded in agreement and pulled Zelena out of the tent, murmuring that they’d best give Regina some privacy to dress. He was pretty sure that, after that wake-up call, he could kiss the rest of his wardrobe goodbye.

***

They strode through the forest, Regina leading the way, Robin struggling to keep up with her quick pace. “Are you really in such a hurry to be rid of me?” he asked, and she threw him a coy smile over her shoulder.

“I’m sure I’m not the first woman to have that reaction to your charm,” she said.

“And if I said you are?” he bantered back.

She hopped lightly over a fallen tree trunk, turning back to him as she hit the ground in a low crouch. “In that case,” she said as she straightened, “I’d say you should stop believing the stories they tell about you.”

“Ah,” he replied. “But fiction is so much more enticing than reality, wouldn’t you say?”

She shrugged. “Based on my experience with reality, I’d have to agree.”

He took a couple of quick steps to catch up to her. “Speaking of reality,” he said, “what’s the real story with you and the Queen? Why is she so determined to bring you down?”

She held her silence for a moment, weighing her words as they trudged steadily through the forest. Debating, no doubt, how much to reveal to him. Finally, she spoke. “She blames me for ruining her life.”

“Did you?” he asked.

She gave a small nod, still not meeting his eyes. “Yes.”

He stopped short at the snap of a twig, reaching out to grab her arm. She flicked a glance at him, ready to argue, but he held a finger to his lips and gestured to his left. He pulled her behind him and reached for an arrow, nocking it silently and raising his bow to his cheek.

A doe stepped out of the shadows of the forest, and she laughed quietly. “My hero,” she teased over his shoulder. “However would I protect myself without you?”

“Well, milady,” he said. “I’m here to make sure you don’t have to find out.” She snorted softly and pushed past him. “If you’re quite certain the danger has passed,” she tossed back, “perhaps we could keep moving? I’d like to get home by nightfall.”

Once again, he picked up his pace to keep in time with her own. She stared forward, jaw set. “So tell me,” he asked, trying once again to dig underneath the walls she’d so carefully constructed around herself, “how did you ruin the Queen’s life?”

For a moment, he thought that he’d pushed too far, that she’d close herself off completely from him. That she might possibly leave him bleeding on the forest floor for daring to dig too deeply into the secrets she held so closely to her vest.

“I told a secret. I knew that Snow was in love with Prince James, and I knew she was promised to another. She and James were going to run off together, so I told Queen Ava.” She turned to Robin and smiled softly. “I thought I was helping. I didn’t want her to lose everything for love. I thought her mother would understand.”

“Did she?” Robin asked.

Regina shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “She ripped James’s heart from his chest and crushed it in front of Snow, and then told her that she’d marry whoever the King and Queen decreed.”

“And how do you know all this?”

She smiled at him. “I grew up in the castle. The King and Queen found me in the forest when I was a baby and gave me to their cook to raise. I was Snow’s handmaiden until the King and Queen died.”

“Well,” he said, cocking an eyebrow at her, “that explains why you like the comfort of a bed.” He walked silently beside her, wanting to know more, but unwilling to push her. She’d already told him more than he deserved to know. More than he wished to know, certainly. The bandit Regina was a welcome distraction; the queen’s target, marked for death, was far more troubling. _And not your trouble to bear_ , he reminded himself. He would see her safely out of the kingdom, and nothing more. He let her take the lead once more as they walked along the narrow path.

“She killed them, you know,” Regina said into the silence. “She killed her parents. And then she came after me.”

“She did _what_?” he asked, completely shocked by the revelation.

“They set the date for her wedding to Prince Eric, and the night before, she shot a fireball into their room.” She chewed her lip, lost in the memory.

“I thought their deaths were an accident,” Robin said. “That’s what the kingdom was told.”

“Oh, it was no accident. The only reason I survived was that her governess came and told me to clear out, so I did. My mother- I mean, the woman who raised me- she was dead before even the king and queen, I think. But I survived. And I’ve been on the run ever since.”

Regina’s pace had slowed steadily as she told her story. She stopped and turned to Robin. “That’s why I can’t stay here. She’s found me, and she’ll never forgive me. She’ll never stop until I’m dead. So I have to go.”

“Regina,” he said, reaching out to her, a hand softly stroking her arm, “We can help protect you.” _What about helping her leave?_ his common sense asked, but he brushed the thought aside.

She shook her head. “No,” she said softly. “Too many people are dead because of what I’ve done. I won’t add any more.”

“Isn’t that my choice?” he asked.

She laughed, a hollow, bitter laugh. “People like me don’t have choices, Robin. We only have consequences. And I don’t need any more consequences hanging over my head.”

“You have a very grim outlook on life, you know that?” he asked.

“Not grim. Realistic,” she replied. She sidestepped a stack of branches in their path. “Careful,” she said, nodding to her trap, “unless you want to have your legs broken by a quick drop into a deep pit.”

“Not today,” he grimaced.

She ducked into the mouth of her log home, and he hesitated, not wanting to invade her privacy. Ironic, since he’d made a habit of it over the last few weeks.

“Are you coming in or not?” came a voice from the shadows, and he eased himself inside. “Well,” she said, “make yourself comfortable. You’ve certainly done it before.”

He leaned against the wall. “It’s not as much fun when you’re expecting me,” he said with a grin. Flint struck steel and a candle spluttered to life.

Her home had been completely tossed. Furniture destroyed, clothing strewn about. All her medicinals shattered on the floor. Clearly the black knights had found her. And on the table, the only piece of furniture that hadn’t been splintered to pieces, sat a shiny, perfect red apple.

***

He was out the door like a shot, bow drawn as he cleared the entrance. She barely noticed his departure, all of her attention on that single red apple. She reached out a hand to touch it, but as soon as her fingers got close, she could feel them start to burn. Powerful magic. Blood  magic. Vengeance, right here in her home, waiting to exact Snow’s revenge where nobody would ever find her. She drew her hand back and rubbed it against her thigh.

She made a quick survey of her little den. All of her things, destroyed. The furniture she’d so carefully collected, the clothing she’d stitched by hand. The few mementoes and decorations she’d pulled together to make this place less of a hideout and more of a home. All of it was gone. And with it, her hopes that she’d ever escape Snow White’s wrath.

She sank slowly to the floor and pulled her knees up to her chest. “I should just give up now,” she muttered as she dropped her forehead to her arms.

“No, you shouldn’t,” came Robin’s steady reply. She jerked up her chin; she hadn’t even heard him come back in. He reached down to take her hand and pulled her to her feet. “You should grab whatever you need. We’re getting out of here now.”

“To go where?” she bit back. “The kingdom is crawling with her black knights. They’ll find me no matter where I go. I have to get out of here, Robin, and the only way to do that is with money.” She flung her hand at a chest lying on the floor, lock broken. “Money that’s now _gone_.” Once again, she had absolutely nothing and nowhere to go.

“So we’ll get you more,” he said. “Acquiring money is not an issue for me. Or have you not heard?”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that. Oh, the cocky fool believed the stories they told about him, all right. “I can’t ask you to do that,” she said. “I can’t ask you to put your men in danger for me. You should just go now.” She took in a deep, if shaky, breath. “I told you, I can take care of myself.”

“Right, then,” he said, and in one smooth movement swept her off her feet and slung her over his shoulder. “We’re leaving.”

She kicked and struggled against him, but he held her legs in an iron grip. With one hand she clutched at the leather belt around her waist. “If you don’t put me down right now, I swear I’ll slit you open and rip out your kidneys myself.”

“With what?” he asked, not breaking his stride. “This?” He held up a hand, her blade between his fingers. “Not likely, Regina. I’m going to rescue you whether you like it or not.”

He carried her past the traps she’d set, past the path that led towards the village of Nottingham, and deep into the forest before he finally set her down. She tensed to run, but his hands never left her shoulders. “Regina,” he said, ducking his chin to hers when she refused to meet his gaze, “let me help you.”

She leaned into him slightly, taking the briefest moment of respite in the light grip of his hands on her shoulders. Regina couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched her with affection, or offered her any sort of comfort. It was…nice. And it would get him killed, just like the king and queen. Just like Johanna. Just like Cook. She could still hear the screams of the king and queen echoing through the stone hallways of the castle. Still smell the smoke in the air. Still feel the panic as a hand gripped her in the darkness – Johanna, Snow’s governess, shoving her through the castle and out the door, telling her to run, to keep running and never look back. No matter how far or fast she ran, though, Snow was always nipping at her heels. Always waiting for the millisecond when Regina dropped her guard. And heaven have mercy on whoever was with her when that moment came, because Snow sure as hell wouldn’t.

“You can’t, she breathed as she pulled away from him, tugging at his hands to loosen his grip.

“I can,” he said, his jaw set. “Now, come along, we’ve a long way to go.” He turned and strode through the forest. “And if you want to see your knife again, you’ll have to follow me.”

She bit her lip, debating whether to follow. “I can get another knife, you know,” she yelled after him as his footsteps faded in the distance.

“But can you get another pendant?” he called back. Her hand flew to her neck. Sure enough, her mother’s pendant was gone. Again. She let out a frustrated growl and set off after him.

The moon hung high above the tree line by the time they returned to the Merry Men’s camp. Most of the men were asleep; only Will Scarlet stood watch, shaking his head as Robin and Regina slipped quietly through the campsite. Robin held open the tent flap for Regina. His pallet was once again in its place; Regina’s bed was still somewhere in Sherwood on a cart with Little John and Friar Tuck.

“Tuck and John aren’t going to like being sent on a fool’s errand,” she snapped. Nor was she going to like sleeping on the cold, hard ground by a dying campfire. This was a mistake.

Robin shrugged, unconcerned. “They’ll forgive you. They don’t care much for the queen’s knights either, you know. I’ll see if there’s some food left by the fire. You,” he said, and waved a hand at his pallet, “make yourself comfortable.”

She snorted. “With what?” she asked. “My bed is gone, and I have nothing to wear other than what I’ve got on.”

He reached down and dug through his chest, pulling out a soft green shirt. “Here,” he said as he tossed it to her. “This should be quite comfortable once you cut open the seams you’ve stitched together.” He slapped her knife down on the table and strolled out of the tent.

Regina poked a finger at where she’d sewn the sleeves closed at the shoulder. Not even the smallest gap between stitches. A pity to undo her handiwork, but she didn’t have much of a choice. She picked up her knife and set to work unpicking each stitch.

She had finished with one sleeve and was halfway through the second when he returned, hands full with bread, mugs of ale, and what looked to be the picked-over remains of a wild turkey. “Not much left out there, I’m afraid,” he said, and set down their meager dinner on the table. “Are you still working on that?” he asked.

“Anything worth doing is worth doing well,” she muttered. Her blade slipped on a particularly stubborn stitch, and she jumped when the tip pierced her index finger. “Damn,” she said, shaking her hand. It was bad enough that she’d stitched together his wardrobe; the least she could do was not bleed on it as well.

He leaned over the table to check her wound. “Are you all right?” he asked as he reached for her hand.

“I’m fine,” she said, twisting away from him. “I just nicked myself.” She sucked the drop of blood off her index finger. A sharp intake of breath caught her attention – she looked up to see Robin staring intently at her lips. She flushed and dropped her hand.

“I can tend to your injuries, Regina. I’ve done it before. And this time, I won’t even require you to remove your shirt,” he said with a smile.

Her cheeks grew even redder at the mention of their first meeting. She tossed his shirt onto the table and reached for a mug of ale, looking for any excuse to change the subject. Or to distract Robin. The way he continued to stare at her lips…she wasn’t prepared for that. Didn’t want to think about it. Thinking led to wanting, and wanting led to grief.

She took a long swallow of ale, and the mug blocking the view of her mouth was enough to break Robin’s intense focus. “So,” she said. “I believe you promised me you’d help me out of this forest.”

He nodded. “And indeed I shall, if that’s what you wish. But I do think-“

She held up a hand, cutting him off. “I know what you think, but my mind is made up. But now we have a bigger problem. How are we going to pull anything off when the forest is full of the queen’s knights? They’re expecting me to try to pull off a job. One wrong move, and we’re both dead.”

He nodded. “Ah, that. Well, I have a target in mind. One that shouldn’t provide us with too much trouble.”

She looked up from the slice of bread she had been absently shredding. “Oh, really? And who might that be?”

He grimaced. “My father.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

His father. Robin hadn’t seen the man in over five years, not since the day he’d said he’d rather be dead than be a Locksley and walked out. The intervening years hadn’t changed his opinion; his father had gotten richer while the poor of Sherwood Forest had gotten poorer, thanks in no small part to the sheriff.

No matter how many years had passed, Robin still felt bile rising up in his throat at the thought of the bloody Sheriff of Nottingham, his father’s favorite toadie. Nottingham had been delighted to be the ruthless monster that Robin refused to be, and as a result, he’d been rewarded with Robin’s beloved Marian. It was a calculated attempt on his father’s behalf, he knew, to persuade Robin to knuckle under and be the son of the house of Locksley that his father wanted, but Robin couldn’t do it. He’d been convinced that he could leave his family behind, that he could spirit Marian away, that they could live together in the forest with his friends and find happiness.

He’d been wrong.

Marian had been sickly since birth, he knew that. She was used to a life of comfort, of luxury; she was accustomed to being doted upon. He doted upon her as well and promised her a life with every happiness as the wife of the heir of the Locksley name, but when he broke with his father, he abandoned any hope that he could give her such a life. Foolish of him to think that his love would be enough for her. She’d cried in his arms and told him that, though she loved him, she couldn’t walk away from everything she’d ever known to follow him into the forest. She was going to marry Nottingham, as her parents wanted, and she hoped he would understand. She had kissed him, and kissed him, and pulled him down into her bed. After their night together, he had believed that she wouldn’t be able to walk away from him, but he was wrong. She married Nottingham within the month, and eight months later, she was dead. Dead during childbirth, along with the son that Robin knew was his own.

He’d learned to live with it, because he had no choice. Learned to accept that Marian was gone, that the life he’d envisioned wasn’t going to happen. So he turned his back on Robin of Locksley and embraced Robin Hood. He took pride in every coin he kept out of Nottingham’s hands, and he knew someday Nottingham would have to answer to him for Marian. Until then, he’d blocked his own name, his family, from his mind.

Now, though, there was another woman who needed him. This time…this time, he wouldn’t fail her.

***

“Your father?” Regina asked, disbelief etched in her face. “Your father is going to help me?”

“Well, not willingly,” he said with a smile. “But I don’t plan on  _asking_  him for help.”

Her mouth gaped open, then snapped shut again. She shook her head. “And that’s your grand plan? Stealing from your inheritance? You really are an idiot.”

He shrugged. “That may be,” he said, “but what choice do you have?”

She considered his words, toying with the sleeve of the shirt resting on the table. “Not much,” she said quietly.

“Regina,” he said with a smile, “I’m not going to steer you wrong on this. My father has money he doesn’t deserve. You need help. It’s a winning proposition all around.”

She looked up at him, steady brown eyes meeting blue. “And what do you get out of this?” she asked.

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. He didn’t expect such a blunt question. “What do you mean?”

“Nobody does anything out of the goodness of their heart. Why are you doing this?”

He really needed to work on her opinion of his character.  He leaned in a little closer. “Because I like you, Regina. Because I want you to survive. Because you stole my bow. Do I really need to explain this to you?”

She balked at that. Clearly she wasn’t accustomed to people appreciating her rare gifts. Her eyes drifted down his neck, to his chest, and settled on the pendant he’d swiped from her.

“I think you’re messing with me,” she said bluntly.

He laughed. “You have to trust someone someday, Regina,” he said. “Why not me?”

Why not him, indeed? He was waiting, breath held, for her response. He shouldn’t care what she thought. He shouldn’t care about whether or not she’d accept his help, but he did. He wanted her to think well of him, regardless of the stunts he’d pulled to capture her attention. And after all, she’d started it.

She laughed abruptly. “Trusting people gets me in trouble.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Not trusting people hasn’t gotten you very far either, Regina.”

She shrugged and once again picked at the sleeve in front of him. “So what’s your plan, then?”

He grinned and plucked a crust of bread from the plate in front of her. “Well, Regina, I’m glad you asked,” he said and popped the bread into his mouth.

***

“You’ve lost your mind,” John said, arms crossed over his chest, when Robin had finished going over his plan early the next morning. “This is it, mate, you’ve finally gone off the ledge.”

Regina snorted behind him, and he shot her a quick glare. He was doing this for _her_ , after all; a little bit of support would not have gone amiss.

“You do know you’re going to get us killed, yes?” Will piped up from across the table.

“My father is a fool,” Robin replied. “And he’s far too complacent in his role in this forest. It’s high time we take him down a peg.” The men exchanged wry glances.”He’ll not harm me,” he said. “I’m still the heir to the house of Locksley.”

“You may be, but we’re not,” Will snapped. “He’ll have Nottingham string the lot of us up for sure.”

He could hear Regina push herself up from behind him, and he shot her a warning glance over his shoulder.  _Sit down_ , his eyes said, and he was pleasantly surprised to see that she obeyed. Less pleasant was the eye-rolling that accompanied her movement, but he decided to overlook that.

“My father’s defenses are weak,” he continued, “and his treasury is full. He’s profited long enough off of the suffering of Sherwood Forest.” Several of the men were nodding in agreement, particularly those who had always looked a bit askance at following a man who was the son of such a powerful, wealthy landowner. “This will work,” he said stubbornly. “Tuck will keep my father and his men engaged in town. John, Alan and Much will survey the perimeter, and Will, Regina and I will raid the coffers.”

Will was less than pleased at his assignment, no doubt picturing the sheriff’s sword sinking into his belly, but he held his tongue. Will was smart, stealthy and fearless; Robin wouldn’t have chosen another to take his place. Will was also more than a bit selfish, and Robin knew he’d have to overlook his friend’s light fingers once they were in his family’s vault.  _A small price to pay_ , he reminded himself.

“Are we agreed, then?” he asked his men, and slowly, they all nodded their assent. They filed out of his tent, one by one, until only he, Regina and John remained.

“A word, Robin?” John asked, and Robin nodded in reply. “Alone, if you don’t mind,” John said to Regina, and she lifted herself off the stool where she had been perched and excused herself. Robin watched her go, admiring the way his forest green shirt draped over her curves. As the tent flap closed behind her, he drew his attention back to his friend. John was studying him, a guarded expression on his face.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, my friend,” John said.

“No more dangerous than any other job we’ve pulled,” Robin replied, his gaze steely.

John laughed at that. “Far more dangerous. Every other job has been about the money. This is about a woman. Don’t think we haven’t noticed the way you’ve been following her about the forest, Robin.”

Robin shrugged. “She’s a worthy opponent. And now a friend that I wish to help, nothing more.”

“Nothing more,” John mocked. “Tell me, what would your Zelena say? You remember her, yes? Your fiancée?  The one who has been begging you for years to make amends with your father? How would she feel if she knew what you were planning?”

He didn’t have the guts to admit that he’d forgotten completely about Zelena. Robin pushed all thoughts of her fiery temper out of his mind. She loved him, after all; she’d stand by him no matter what he did. Wouldn’t she?  _Regina would_ , a small traitorous voice echoed in his head, but he pushed it aside.  “If all goes well, she’ll never know,” Robin replied curtly and turned back to the parchment on the table. “And you’d be wise not to mention it.” He studied the plans he’d so carefully laid out. “This will work,” he repeated softly, not sure if he was trying to convince John, or himself.

***

She stood just outside the flap of his tent. She shouldn’t eavesdrop, she knew, but old habits died hard and she still had a more than healthy instinct for self-preservation. She could tell by John’s harsh words that he didn’t support this plan, and she honestly couldn’t blame him. Regina surveyed the men around the camp. Several were ignoring her (some rather pointedly), but others were giving her blatant looks of distrust. She fiddled with the sleeve of Robin’s green shirt. _I shouldn’t have come here_ , she thought.

She couldn’t leave, though. Not while Robin still wore her mother’s pendant around his neck. She could walk away from everything she’d owned in the Enchanted Forest, but she’d die before she left that behind. And the longer she stuck around, the more likely dying seemed.

Maybe she should have just left his stupid bow well enough alone.

John stormed out of Robin’s tent without even a glance at her, and she slipped inside through the still-swinging flap. He was standing with both palms resting on the table, jaw set and brow furrowed. She could see the frustration radiating in waves off of him.

“I hope you’re not here to have a go at me as well,” he muttered. He looked over his shoulder at her, and she stepped back when she saw the anger on his face. She tugged at the too-long sleeves again.

“I thought I might try reasoning with you. You do understand reason, yes?” she asked with a smirk.

“I understand a lot of things, Regina. Just because I live in the forest doesn’t mean I’m a total fool.”

She cocked an eyebrow at the implied insult. “I live in the forest too, you know.”

He sighed and dropped his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he said.

She chewed her bottom lip. He was quite obviously angry, and she assumed it had to do with his conversation with Little John. She hated being the cause of conflict between them. It wasn’t her place, she knew that, and she was beginning to regret agreeing to stay.

 _Beginning to regret?_ She’d regretted it since she’d agreed to it. But she didn’t want Robin to pay for her misgivings. Aside from the thieving, he’d been nothing but generous. She sidled up next to him. “Problems with your plan?” she asked quietly.

“Of course not. My plans always go off without a hitch,” he said and gifted her with a deep smile. She could feel a flush creeping up her cheeks at the sight of his dimpled grin.

“Right,” she said drily. She pulled up a stool and leaned her elbows on the table. “So let’s go over this plan once again.”

***

They slipped quietly through the forest, the Merry Men spread out to keep watch for the black knights. Regina tried repeatedly to pull her arm from Robin’s grip, but he refused to let her go. “I can walk by myself, you know,” she grumbled.

“Perhaps,” he replied, “but I prefer knowing where you are.”

“Do you think I’m going to run?” she asked, not really wanting to hear the answer. In truth, she’d thought about it. She hated feeling dependent on Robin to get out of the kingdom. She hated the watchful glares of his Merry Men. Mostly, she hated the fact that she was starting to get used to his presence. This was going to end badly, she knew it.

“I think you have a knack for finding trouble,” he replied as he tugged on the sleeve of the forest green shirt that had once again slipped over her wrist. “It’s my job to see that you stay out of it.”

“I thought it was your job to annoy me and get in my way,” she grumbled, and he laughed in response. “That’s really just a perk,” he said. “Now, can we keep moving? We have a lot of ground to cover.”

They crept silently through the canopy of oak trees, a twig snapping in the distance reminding Regina that the Merry Men were all about. Ordinarily she loved moving through the forest, the sunlight peeking through the trees and the call of birds drifting through the late afternoon, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of her belly. Robin was risking his neck for her, and she knew that she could never repay him. Nor could she help him if they got caught. Running away was starting to seem like a better plan.

“You’re thinking again.” Robin’s voice broke through her swirling thoughts. “I told you, everything is going to be fine.”

***

Everything was not fine, not by a long shot. Locksley Manor was eerily quiet as they approached. Far too quiet for a house of this size. Regina had grown up in the palace; even when the royal family was traveling, the castle was always buzzing with servants, courtiers, and peasants peddling wares. Every instinct in her body screamed that they were walking into a trap, but Robin merely brushed away her concerns.

“It’s fine,” he said. “Tuck has my father well in hand in the tavern.” He signaled for Will to move ahead, and she followed the two men into the great hall despite her misgivings. She followed Robin and Will down a maze of darkened hallways until they came to a secluded, locked door. Within minutes, Will picked the lock. “See, I told you. Nothing to be concerned about.” Robin swung open the door.

And there stood the queen. “Regina,” she said as a cruel smile spread across her delicate features. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Before Regina could react, the queen’s black knights wrestled Robin and Will to the ground. She stood frozen in place, unable to come to Robin’s defense or flee to save her own neck. Snow White lifted a hand and beckoned her to come forward, and her feet dragged her unwillingly across the floor. When she was standing in front of Snow, the queen reached out a hand and stroked Regina’s face.

“I’ve missed you, my dear,” Snow said. “But now that I’ve found you again, you won’t be getting away.”

“How did you find me?” Regina whispered, fighting desperately to recoil from Snow’s touch, but the magic holding her steady was too strong.

“Oh,” the queen answered with a smile, “you might say a little bird told me where to find you.” Snow snapped her fingers and her dark prince appeared at her side. “Wrap her up,” she commanded. “We’re taking her with us.” The prince threw a sack over Regina’s head and lifted her off her feet. She struggled to fight against him, but she was held powerless by the queen’s spell.

“REGINA-“ she heard Robin yell, and then the sickening thud of boot meeting flesh. She closed her eyes and prayed that whatever Snow White had in store for her, she’d spare Robin and Will. “Please,” she said softly.

“Please what?” Snow’s voice echoed in her ear.

“Please let them go.”

She heard the queen cackle. “Worried about that riff raff, are you? If you’re worried about anyone’s future, it should be your own.”

She should be worried, she knew that, but deep down she’d always believed that it would end like this. That the queen would finally catch up with her and seek her vengeance for Prince James, and that she’d meet her death alone. She couldn’t bring herself to fear for a future that she’d long since abandoned, but she was deathly afraid for Robin. He deserved better than to pay the price for her mistakes. “You have what you came for,” she said, her voice strong and steady despite her quaking nerves. “Let them go, and I’ll not fight you.”

Snow pulled the hood off of Regina’s head and tipped her chin up with one perfectly manicured finger. “Do they mean something to you, then?” she purred.

“They’re a means to an end, like everyone else in the forest,” Regina lied, hoping the tremble in her voice wouldn’t give her away. “But they shouldn’t have to suffer because of me.”

Snow tapped her nose lightly. “My dear, the only person I want to suffer is you.”

Footsteps from the adjoining hall caught Regina’s attention. Snow looked over her shoulder at the sound and said, “You’ve done very well, and you’ll be rewarded. Handsomely.” Just before the queen yanked the sack back over her head, Regina caught a flash of red hair out of the corner of her eye.


	5. Chapter 5

The echoes of splashing water greeted him when he woke, and for a moment he tried to convince himself that he was back in the forest. He was camped beside a stream, waiting for daylight to break so that he and his men could put a plan into action. For a few brief seconds, he believed it, until he felt the cold stones pressing into his back. Wherever he was, it wasn’t his camp. No straw pallet, now whoops of his men, no laughter among the trees.

Wherever he was, he was definitely in trouble. He checked in with his body, tensing muscles and flexing limbs. Nothing broken, nothing bleeding – so far as he could tell – and nothing restraining him. Possibly not a dungeon, though he couldn’t rule it out until he opened his eyes. He _knew_ he wasn’t alone. Knew he wasn’t in friendly company. And, as such, didn’t have much incentive to sit up and make conversation.

“I had hoped to see you again, big brother, but not like this,” came a familiar voice echoing against the stone walls. A voice he hadn’t heard in years but had never forgotten. His youngest brother was here with him. Water splashed again, and he realized that the sound wasn’t from the stream by the camp, but from a cloth being wrung out in a basin. He might not have been bleeding now, but clearly he was before. As he sat up, pain shot through his head. It wasn’t hard to suss out where that blood had been coming from, he thought, as his fingers danced over a spectacular knot on his forehead.

“You are awake,” Roland, the youngest of the Locksleys, said as his oldest brother groaned. “I thought a paltry head wound wouldn’t be enough to stop you. You are the most hard-headed bastard I’ve ever met, you know.”

It wasn’t the first time someone had pointed that out to Robin. It was also hardly likely to be the last, he realized, as he remembered just how he wound up with a lump the size of Granny Lucas on his temple. His plans for playing the hero, in tatters at his feet, and Regina…gods, where was she? Not here, he had no doubt. No, in this cavernous room, it was just him and his youngest brother, two idiots that had never failed to make stupid decisions in times of imaginary war, or storybook peace, or idiocy posed as bravery to their father, ever testing their childish judgment.  Roland more than himself, the dark –haired echo of their father’s rapidly waning desire for an heir. Roland was the one standing on his own two feet while he struggled to gain control of his body. Still, he wasn’t the oldest for nothing, and if past history meant anything, he could terrify his baby brother into bowing to his will. “And you’re the most soft-hearted bastard I’ve ever met,” he replied, the ghost of a smile creeping into his voice. “What are you doing here, Roland?”

“Saving your ass.”

Given the amount of pain he was in, ass or no, his baby brother obviously was a bit late to the job. “You were supposed to be gone,” he said. “You were all supposed to be gone, and this was supposed to be an easy target. So, I’ll ask you again. What are you doing here, Roland?”

Roland didn’t answer right away. He wrung out the cloth a few more times than necessary, dug through his knapsack and bit into a shiny red apple before he turned his attention back to his big brother. “Something didn’t feel right,” he said through a mouthful of half-chewed Red Delicious.

“Something didn’t feel right,” Robin echoed. “You’ve been riding with Father through the forest for the last, what? Six years, and only _now_ something didn’t feel right?” He shoved himself off his stone perch, ready to raise fists and knock his little brother into another kingdom, but Robin’s knees had a different idea. His body gave way under him, and it was only his brother’s fast reflexes that kept him from bashing his head against rock and mortar.

“Something didn’t feel right,” his brother echoed. “Something hasn’t felt right since you left.” Roland settled Robin into a seated position and handed him another apple. Something about the bright red flesh turned Robin’s stomach to stone. He tossed the apple into the darkness, taking no small comfort in hearing it skitter through the shadowy corridors of the Castle Locksley dungeon where he and his brother and sister played as children.

“Let me get this right,” he said. “You and I haven’t spoken in years. You sit at the right hand of our father, and by default the left hand of the sheriff. Yet, when the queen swoops in on your big brother, something didn’t feel right? Pardon me if I think you’re fattening me up for the kill.”

Roland studied him closely, leaving him feeling almost as bare as when Regina gave him the once-over. “Forgive me for saying so, Robin, but you could do with some fattening. The life of an outlaw has made you more than a little scrawny.”

“I could still kick your arse,” Robin grumbled. His brother raised a skeptical eyebrow. Before Robin could stop himself, he started to chuckle. Too many years shouting insults through the halls of this castle couldn’t be erased. He only hoped that the little boy who followed him like an eager puppy still lived inside this man that he barely recognized. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Roland shook his head, either unable or unwilling to give up the source of his information, Robin couldn’t be sure. “I heard there was trouble,” he said. “Mother asked me to stay behind to make sure it didn’t get out of hand.”

 _Mother_. Always looking out for her golden boy. Robin blanched at the thought of his mother paying the price for his stupidity. “Is she all right?” he asked softly.

Roland shrugged. “As all right as she’s been since you left. She’s with Ellen and her family. Has no idea where you are, or I am, or what’s happened, as far as the crown knows. Or as far as Father knows.” Roland tossed a fresh shirt to his brother. “As always, she’s protecting you.”

Robin caught the shirt with his good hand, wincing at the effort it took to keep the rest of his body still. “You’re blaming me for that. Still.” With a combination of his arm and his teeth, he worked his blood-soaked shirt over his head and tossed it to the ground. “I never asked any of you to protect me.”

“We’re family. What were we supposed to do?”

 _Take a stand. Walk away, like I did_.”Make your own choices, I suppose.”

“Well,” Roland said with a sigh, “I guess I did. And here we are.”

“Here we are,” Robin echoed. “In the dungeon. Is this where I’m supposed to stay?”

Roland chuckled at that, a ghost of his younger self. “No, you’re supposed to get dressed and come upstairs and admit to all your failings. Beg for mercy and all that. Barring that, I’m supposed to beat your admission into you.” He dug into the pack at his feet. “You need to eat. Apple?”

Robin studied the ripe fruit. “Are they poisoned?

Roland sunk his teeth into the rich red skin and chewed. “Apparently not.” He tossed the half-eaten apple to his brother. “Now, will you let me take care of you? Because there’s some things you need to know, big brother, and you’re not going to like them.”

Somehow, Robin was sure of that. He took a bite of the apple , savoring the rich sweetness. “I’m trusting you,” he said. “Don’t make me regret it.”

“It’s not my trust you should regret. It’s Zelena’s.”

***

She couldn’t see much from the window of her tiny cell in the tower, just a small section of the courtyard. Through the bars, she watched the gentle summer breeze catch the leaves of the apple tree, making them pirouette slowly against the branches. Regina spent many an afternoon under those branches, watching the sunlight filter through the leaves and lazily picking apple after apple for Cook to turn into some delicacy for the king and queen, and for their beloved princess, Snow White. The fruit was smooth and fragrant, its unblemished skin standing out in stark contrast to her own work-roughened fingers. Even as a little girl, Regina bore the marks of hard labor; calluses from chopping vegetables and cracked fingernails from diligently scrubbing the laundry.

Even so, she had been happy then. She loved that tree, loved the way the branches reached up towards the heavens. Loved watching the fruits ripen under the summer sun. The tree had been a gift from Prince Henry and Princess Cora to mark the birth of Snow White, and it had arrived a day after Regina herself had been sent to work in the castle. Because of that, she had always thought of the tree as her own, though the truth was that as a servant, she owned little more than the clothes on her back. She didn’t mind; Cook was kind and gentle, and Snow’s governess petted her and told her what a charming little girl she was. For a child who had never known the touch of a mother, it was heady indeed for Regina to be so adored. Even the queen, Ava, treated Regina gently, talking to the little girl as though her opinions on the night’s meal mattered.

She had loved living in the castle as a child and growing up with the baby princess, loved how Snow turned to her as a wobbly toddler to help guide her along the sharp stones in the courtyard. Even now, as she was captive in the tower, she felt the heady freedom of those days, when her only care was making sure her chores were done before she retired to her tiny room and her greatest joy was basking in the glow of the afternoon sun underneath the apple tree.

That room she occupied as a child was enormous compared to her current lodgings, a cell barely large enough for a moldy straw pallet and a table and chair. She’d pace if she could, but she could take no more than three steps in any direction. Instead, she sat by the window and stared at the tree and longed for the soft caress of sunshine and the gentle singing of the leaves in the breeze. She’d feel the sun’s caress soon enough; Snow had decreed that she was to be executed by firing squad in the morning. She knew this day would come eventually. She resigned herself to leaving the world the same way she came into it – alone.

She was going to die. She only hoped she hadn’t dragged Robin down into his own end too.

***

She wouldn’t betray him, Robin promised himself. Not Zelena, not his beloved. She wouldn’t turn his trust against him. She had a short temper and a jealous streak, but surely she stood with him? Surely she believed in him, and his cause?

Surely she believed that what he was doing was just?

 _Just as Marian did_ , a traitorous voice in his head reminded him. Just as Marian had loved him until it didn’t suit her. Damn, he had a knack for choosing them, didn’t he? Marian had loved him until a better offer had come along. He’d suffred for that, and chosen wisely the next time. Zelena wasn’t the same. Zelena needed a champion, being just as much a lost child as he was. Zelena didn’t even _know_ his father.

“She’d never-“ he started, but his brother cut him off.

“She did. Really, Robin, is your head so easily turned by a pretty girl?” Roland tossed a scrap of paper at him, and it only took a glance to recognize the handwriting, even as he tried to deny the words he read.

_Your castle will be under attack. Prepare your defenses. The bandit of the forest, the queen’s nemesis, will be your undoing._

“She loves me. She would never betray me like this.”

Roland snorted, an entirely undignified sound coming from the heir apparent of the house of Locksley. He shook his head, but his brother’s response…all bared teeth and cynicism.

“So easily swayed by a pretty girl.”

He thought of Regina, thought of her soft skin and her brown eyes. Thought of how she studied him, over the candlelight in his tent as she carefully plucked free the seams in his clothing that she’d stitched together. Thought of how she refused to trust him, even when he’d laid himself bare at her feet. Wondered where she was and how he could manage to save her. Knew that the answer was yes, he could be swayed by a pretty woman with brown eyes and a steel of spine.

If only he’d waited for the right woman. If only he’d realized that pretty was nothing compared to ice and grit and determination. If only he hadn’t gotten her caught by the Queen.

If only he could have kept her safe.

***

A blanket of stars twinkled over the treetops, and the castle was enveloped in the peaceful stillness of midnight. Regina rested her chin in her hand, unwilling to close her eyes for the last few hours she’d spend on this earth. She’d expected Snow to show up at her cell during the night, eager to rub in her victory, but her solitude had been undisturbed. One final act of vengeance – showing Regina how little she actually mattered to the queen. Just another insect to be squashed and brushed away.

A mourning dove cooed in the distance, and Regina closed her eyes at the melancholy sound. She wondered if anyone would truly mourn for her. Surely not the parents who abandoned her in the woods. Not the little girl whose secrets she’d shared, the girl who now signed her death warrant. The merry men might miss her, she supposed,for the challenges she’d thrown in Robin’s path, but they’d go on their way without her. Robin would forget about her.

Somehow, that stung worst of all. It had only ever been a game between them, so she shouldn’t worry about his fate, and yet…

He was the most stubborn, pig-headed man she’d ever met. She had no doubt he would come for her, if only to prove a point. She also had no doubt he would die as a result.

She was going to get him killed, if he hasn’t been already. She was going to get them all killed, for nothing more than a bow and a pendant and a bit of carved wood. She should have just given up years ago, long before she had anything to lose.

_When had Robin Hood become hers to lose?_

***

Children have a way of finding things they’re never meant to see, he mused, as his brother led him through the tunnels that led from the dungeon to the forest. Perhaps if their parents had been more aware, they’d have known what he and his siblings had been up to, all those years ago. Mapping out every passage in the castle, sneaking through corridors with scraps of dessert and small treasures buried in their pockets. A lifetime training him to be a thief.

Roland held the torch as they eased through the passageway that let out into a stream. “You won’t have much time,” his brother said. “I was supposed to report back. They’ll come looking for me.”

 _Of course they would_. “And what are you going to do?” he asked. “Pretend you never saw me?” It’s not an option anymore, he knows.

Roland smiled, the dimples that they’d both cursed as children echoing his own. “I’m going to follow you out. Get away from this. Maybe make some more of my own choices.”

“Roland,” he said, and his brother stopped in his tracks. Robin reached out and dug his fingers into his brother’s arm, then pulled him into an embrace that had been far too long in coming. “I’ll always protect you. I promise.”

Roland’s hand clapped his back. “You always have. Now, it’s my turn.”

 _Family_. For the first time in years, he felt the weight of the word. As they cleared the tunnel’s entrance, he turned to run at full bore upstream to his men. The splashing behind him, matching time and distance with his own footsteps, was the only answer he needed.

***

Sunrise brought the heavy clatter of boots on the stairs, and Regina steeled herself for what was to come. Two of Snow’s black knights stood in the doorway. Again, she was surprised that the queen herself hadn’t come to gloat; it was a final insult, she supposed, that the queen deemed her so unworthy as to cast her from this life without so much as a parting insult. Regina held her head high and stepped out of the room of her own will. She’d be damned if she let them drag her from the cell. If she were to die, she’d do it with dignity.

They led her to the wooden post in the center of the courtyard, facing the apple tree. Executions had always been a matter of public display, but this one…for this one, there were only the black hooded archers, a few of the queen’s trusted allies, and the dark prince. Regina’s temper flared – Snow didn’t even bother to show her face? The guards strapped her to the post, one twirling the black leather blindfold that would shield her from the onslaught of arrows. She stared across the courtyard at her executioners, four hooded figures with bows at the ready. One tugged at his sleeve, and her breath caught in her throat. There, on his forearm, a lion roared against a black shield.

Before she could react, a swirling mass of purple smoke materialized in front of her. Snow stepped up to the post and reached out black-polished fingernail to tip up her chin. “So, my dear, sweet Regina,” she purred, “any last words?”

Regina hesitated for a moment. She had so many things she wanted to say, so many things she wanted Snow to hear. So many songs she’d sung to the little princess that she’d loved and sheltered. So many arguments and pleas for Snow to end the battle between them. _A lost cause_. She shook her head. “Last words?” she said. “No. No, not today.”

She would die with her head held high, she promised herself. A life for lives, if it were her bargain to make.  Snow took a few steps back and conjured a fireball. Regina closed her eyes. A life for lives.

A whistle that she’d heard in the moonlight. Answered with another tuneless, but strong calling in the night, a melody that she’d heard before.

Today was not her day to die. Not just yet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I shamelessly stole from my own story. In my defense, if you recognize the original text, it was written to fit in this verse.


End file.
